


Beyond the gate

by Blue Mousie (NiebieskaMyszka)



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Not Treasure Island Compliant, Post-Canon, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-11-15 05:03:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11223891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NiebieskaMyszka/pseuds/Blue%20Mousie
Summary: Once Thomas dreamed about meeting James again. He would come on the plantation and free him from this miserable life. And one day it happened. But wasn't it too late for both of them?





	1. Chapter 1

Thomas let him do it.

He let James kiss him in front of everyone: Mr. Oglethorpe, guards and other workers.

He thought of it as effect of shock. Happiness.

Hope.

James was alive.

He was alive and standing in front of him with wet, hunted eyes in the most beautiful shades of green. Just like Thomas remembered from the morning they departed and never saw each other again despite so many plans for the future.

At that moment Thomas didn't fear about being punished or his father's resentment towards James after the feral dinner.

Thomas was a fool thinking Alfred will the matter rest, accepting defeat and humiliation from lower class lieutenant demanding him to leave his own house.

Now he was wiser.

Now Thomas was terrified of the thing that didn't occur to him before. Like not following orders or stay silent even if something bad happen in front of him. Here nobody listen or care about they opinion. Society rejected them, therefore they were nobody on the plantation. Shadows of their past glory, doomed to blurring into nothing, expect the shapes Mr. Oglethorpe will give them.

Products of his longtime efforts. His way to being remembered by history as man with vision, helping vulnerable human in unkind world.

But this overwhelming feeling, this fear and hesitation Thomas by now was so familiar with, didn't separate them, even if his body tensed at first touch of James' hands – warm and rough, hands of sailor, full of small scratches and callous. Dirty and kind.

Familiar.

Thomas shivered just from mere memory of long gone mornings in bed under soft silk or evenings filled with readings and passion.

He allowed it, even if he eyed three men watching them with disgusted looks. Even when – if only for a short second – they reached for lashes, before Mr. Oglethorpe prevented them from taking a proper actions.

And even if this wasn't real, just a fainted illusion – another effect of long work in field on hot day.

It happened before. Why would now be any different?

Even if all of this was only Thomas imagination; dream of fool so lost in the past to not recognize first symptoms of sunstroke or a nightmare born from guilt and desperate need for forgiveness.

A wish of a fool who wanted to make the most of it until it will be over.

He was getting whatever James would give him. Thomas ought him at least that much, after everything he had done in this distant, shameful life in England.

After his misjudgment of Alfred's cold fury and his own immunity.

It was strange. By now guards should interrupt or yell them to stop, yet they did nothing.

They watched as James hugged him with grimes on their faces, but didn't do any moves to separate them.

If they allowed it to happen, then Thomas let it be.

For now.

For this single moment, he let James do whatever he wanted. He was allowed – _they_ were allowed – couple of minutes of happiness.

Until reality would hit them.

Until both of them would come into senses and depart. Their bodies would not be connected again, not for a long time, not if guards had something to say and all what mattered on the plantation were they words. Commands. Hidden treats and mocked smiles.

They had powers over lords, nobles, rich heirs of big fortunes. Who wouldn't be enjoying it after Gods only knows what treatment they received from Thomas kind?

He tried to forget about them, when soft lips touched his mouth. It was kiss full of longing and sadness, and happiness, and Thomas didn't know he still had it in himself, this passion, hunger.

Love.

Because there was love. So much love. Alongside with too many confusing emotions Thomas couldn't catch yet.

But soon... Soon he would know. They had time, so much time together. They figured this all out.

James, his James, in front of him knew that as well.

Thomas wouldn't believe, if he didn't see it on his own eyes, but James wasn't ashamed or terrified.

He was just... It was hard to say all emotion in James eyes at the moment.

Soon they would talk, tell tales about ten long years, events they missed, adventures they lived, people they left behind.

Soon everything would make more sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly you can find me (and more drafts of this story) on [my tumblr](https://bluemousieng.tumblr.com). 
> 
> Secondly it's not beta-readed, so if you have any suggestion, tell me. 
> 
> Thirdly I'm aiming for unhappy ending. Not sad, nobody will die (well, they will be old, so nothing unusual), but I don't think most of you would call it happy ending. But it could change, maybe it change after all, becasue I don't like unhappy endings, even if story heads for it. 
> 
> Anyway, be aware of the possibility. 
> 
> To the next time! : )


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit more of Thomas' thoughts about current situation.

After the kiss they separated, still looking each other in the eyes.

Thomas felt old need to know under his skin, to make sense of story behind James' sudden arrival. He looked so weak and exhausted, yet his face shone from happiness. Small smile on his lips attracted Thomas even more than he remembered. It was hypnotic.

But now wasn't the time.

Mr. Oglethorpe waited and he didn't like it. Something Thomas knew from personal experience, when he wasn't as patient as he was now. The man became angry from various reasons, but often because someone let him wait. So it was in all of their best interest to make him content and powerful instead of showing him sign’s of rebellion.

Not here. Not... yet.

They walked off the field to meet three men standing at guards post.

“Mr. Oglethorpe” greeted Thomas.

As an answer he received small nod, but the man's eyes was directed to James.

“Sir.”

Even if it was whispered sound, which would meant anything, it was enough for Mr. Oglethorpe to nod and gave guards sign to follow them.

But before entered the house, they stopped.

“I'm sure James is exhausted and you could show him his room, right, Thomas?” polite tone didn't match bitter smile on Mr. Oglethorpe's lips.

As if inside was someone he wouldn't want to hear his reluctance toward James.

After that there wasn't any more explanation, no need for them. Thomas did that many times as one of the longest worker acquainted with the rules, so one of his duties was to introduce new inhabitants to the place they were living until their deaths.

Guards on his sides looked at them and parted to make a space for them, then follow them to the main house where everyone were living.

James followed. Thomas felt his breath on his neck, to close to be any comfort, but he wasn't annoyed. James wasn't scared, rich boy send away by their family's warm arms and deep pockets. He could take care of himself.

At the top of the stairs they heard tap on the floor. James shifted at the top of the stairs to see an entrance and a man with stick. His back was turned, but James still looked were his eyes should be, as if he knew the man was waiting for something.

None of them said anything, they didn't exchanged any goodbyes, but tense mood was palpable, even guards shifted in their placed at the bottom, waiting for violent reaction.

But nothing happened.

After few moments, the man walked away with a two other tagged after him. One of them gave James small nod, not waiting for response.

Soon James woke up from his trance and looked at Thomas with hunted eyes. This man must be important part of James' previous life.

And Thomas knew this kind of look...

He shook his head.

They would have time for that conversation later. In private.

One of a few empty rooms was on the first stock, right next to stairs, opposite of Thomas small quarters.

Guards followed them, searched the room, if someone tried to hidden something – assuming there is anything they could possess without Mr. Oglrthorpe knowledge, not to mention about a way to come into possession of say objects – then nodded to Thomas and shut the door behind themselves.

Now only thing prevented James from collapsing were Thomas arms around his waist. It was strange realizing how much stronger he became after years of not paying an attention to the effects of hard work in the field.

James placed his head on Thomas shoulder and sighed.

“You're here.” His voice was muffled by clothes, the same one which smelled with sweat and earth. “You're really here. How is that possible?”

“I'm smelling, am I?” Thomas asked. “So I must be real.”

They laughed quiet, privates laughes, before James stepped back and sat on the bed.

He was silent, when Thomas explained him the rules, talked about scheduled work, the conditions and all the routine meetings. It all was part of Mr. Oglethorpe philosophy about them being still civilized people, but in a different way than people behind the gate.

James listened him, but Thomas could tell he was tired and miles away in his thought.

It had something to do with mysterious man the meet at the entrance. Thomas recalled some rumors about him. Beside the whole situation was so unreal, so unusual from his normal day.

But now wasn't the time for questions he didn't want to know the answers.

He wasn't ready to let James go just yet.

There will come to the point of sharing everything, no matter how painful it will be.

Today wasn't the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on my new, more piratie [tumblr](https://piratesmouse.tumblr.com). 
> 
> I'm still looking for beta, but, at least have decided it will be an unhappy ending - not sad, as I told you last time, just not happy, as every happy ending is. 
> 
> Piece by piece and we will have an full fic : )


	3. Chapter 3

Thomas remembered he once had been a patient man – full of hope and faith, fighting for cause no one else could, doing it for so many years against all odds without a single doubt that was the right thing to do. Always supported by Miranda, then by James.

He had know both passions and politics, and how to use them for his purposes. At least he thought he had long time ago.

But here in prison, for people abandoned by their families, striped form their names and dignity, Thomas had learned something else, something he was ashamed about and at the same time grateful for this painful lesson.

He learned anger. Hot, pure anger. Maybe even hate.

For his father. For his friends. For people who didn't fight for him, instead gave up because it was easier.

He hated Miranda for not trying enough. She was smart and resourceful, she could help him, support him, send him letters, when he was still in Bethlam.

But the most of all his anger was directed at James. And Thomas hadn't idea why. He didn't understand it, didn't know why the only person he shouldn't be, was the one receiving his deepest, ugliest feeling he experienced in his life.

Feeling from the darkest part of his heart.

Thomas had been angry to the point of exhaustion, had screamed, begged and cried and nothing helped to lessen the pain and turmoil inside his body and mind.

He couldn't focus or think or even breath. Simple tasks had been most complicated and mere mention of home made him fly into a passion.

Mr. Oglethorpe had invited him after one of those attacks, explained the consequences, if any of it happened again.

“You're intelligent man, Thomas. You know, no one will come for you. Here you're on your own. And that wouldn't change any time soon.”

It was the last warning.

After that Thomas focused on the work, didn't thought about Miranda. His father, His old life.

About James.

In short it helped to fill the hole.

Physical work in the filed from morning to evening with only small pause for rest, dinner and afternoon events. Drained from energy at the evening's meetings, he only listened at the beginning, then, after few weeks of adjusting, started anticipated in discussions.

It had felt almost normal.

Now after ten years of routine Thomas couldn't imagine life without daily work in the field.

Not because he loved this place, he was far from it.

No, work was the way to forget about anger, hot, raw feeling boiling in his veins at mere mention of England.

And behind that — long lived guilt. Sometimes he could felt it in nights, listening to sobs of new inhabitant of the plantation.

He craved for forgiveness from people who he had disappointed. They had abandoned him in return, because they had suffered instead for mistakes he did.

They must hate him.

And then, one day, James stand in front of him.

Alive. Full of love.

But the shocking things was lack of hatred.

It couldn't be real.

It couldn't be, because if it was, then all of Thomas reasons to live until this point were meaningless. He came to him, he didn't abandon him, didn't gave up on Thomas, no matter what disaster he caused in James' life.

~*~

“You didn't come for me” Thomas yelled after minutes, hours, days, of thinking about their feelings to each other.

It was horrible thing to do, screaming and blaming James for years of hope, of slow dying from shame and insanity. Blaming him for ache that showed always before Thomas had fell asleep, as remind of being abandonment by his loved ones.

It was so wrong.

So horrible blaming love of his life to not came here and kill people responsible for Thomas miserable fate.

But the worst thing was James' silent understanding.

If he had expected it. If he was waiting and preparing himself for Thomas rage.

And found it, oh, God, he found it, Thomas let him found out how ugly he had became, with open arms as something familiar, something – one of few thing – he could deal with, one of few thing he knew how to dealt with.

It was wrong.

Thomas didn't know why, but it was wrong. And he could help it, he started piecing, tears fell down his cheeks.

It was disappointing. This... this... silent support and forgiveness.

Thomas didn't need forgiveness or support. He needed James!

He should know. Should expect it. Should...

What should he do now with naked pain in this beautiful eyes?

Pain which looked as biggest relief Thomas saw in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not beted. Sorry, I'm not good at looking for poor soul, who would help me. Never was. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it (if only a bit). I'm not much improved my English in last two weeks... Maybe I should told you that. Not know is sometimes better than knowledge, they say. 
> 
> Well, to the next time : )


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How was live on the plantation looked like.

The worst moments has been when old faces came through the gate with so much confidence, it was painful to watch. The kind of arrogance they all once accepted and believed it was the only way of handling difficult situations or a way to being noticed by right person.

They thought they lived in tough world – then they had came on the plantation and, in a blink of the eye, they old life was the best thing they could dreamed about.

It was there, in their bodies, in core of their souls and hearts, loud screaming its presence, until poor man spotted familiar face and realized what this place really was.

A hole without any chance for escape.

After that, in the middle of the night, they had heard shattered glasses, cries, begging for help, forgiveness, promises for being better and if non of it came, a heartbreaking sobs – last struggles of a man's crushed hope.

In the morning one of them had came to take care after poor soul, because Mr. Oglethorpe didn't tolerate laziness, even if it was an effect of restless night and state of scared mind.

“If they want food and a place to live, they need to work.” he had said, if someone asked for a bit of time for newcomers.

Red rimmed eyes, hollow looks and bodies not accustomed to physical labor wasn't best factors for effective work in full sun, but non of it didn't mattered here. Nobody, especially not guards, made it easier in first few days, weeks, sometimes months.

But James was different – always harder to break than others, more perfect in so many ways. Thomas couldn't stop admiring it, full of love and purpose in mind – make James see the chances world had given them.

It was beautiful and treacherous thought.

After a day of rest – it was uncommon for Mr. Oglethorpe to let new comer sleep during a day and eat full meat with them without any work – James began anticipating in labor in the field.

He was effective, focused and strong.

Guards observed him with wary eyes every time he stopped, as if they didn't know what to do – punish him or let him rest couple of minutes.

Thomas often thought they were afraid of James, but what caused that fear? The one legged man who brought him here?

He was someone Thomas would be careful talking to. This kind of mood around him was dangerous – a promise of harm and pain. Years on the plantation had taught him to pay attention to this sort of thing – to always be aware of the surrounding and not give people with power reason to be angry. They could cause far more damage than someone deserved.

He often wondered, if on the plantation it was so bad, how it looked in real prison. If it was a life his father thought Thomas deserved? If it was his idea of punishment for letting James love him and being loved in return. If it was his happiness, not arrogance and bravery, that pushed his father to make bad choice.

Did Thomas let go of the pardons, would father let him be, even if it was a place by James' side?

There wasn't many place for letters – they all were dead for the world, so there was no need for news or papers, only books and rumors from newcomers – so Thomas found out about his father's murder weeks later, when the last payment didn't came.

It has been almost two months after that – a moment of foolish hope that he could leave this place – Thomas had learned that Peter Ashe had send a letter informing Mr. Oglethorpe that now he would be the one responsible for the task.

And that Thomas' father died by the hand of pirate named Captain Flint, when he has been traveling to the plantation. Alfred Hamilton had planned to meet with Thomas, as he has wrote in official letter.

He planned to talk, his prideful father planned to talk to him, maybe even took him from this place, and one angry pirate Thomas didn't know or harm in any way to deserved such misfortune, ruined it because of... of... some desire of gold.

It was the first time Thomas cursed other human and wish him death for what he did.

~*~

They were discrete at nights.

Thomas wasn't naive enough – not anymore – to think this strange approval of Mr. Oglethorpe and his men would last if he and James kissed in public again. They had done enough damage the first time without consequences. If they tried to repeat it...

Of course there were rumors – it was the middle of the working day when they had losing their heads. They lived in a place full of people from rich families. Most of them grown up as part of English salons full of intrigues and false kindness where rumors were a powerful weapon. Weapon they had sharpened their whole life – winning and losing social acceptance in the meantime.

All of them knew how things were working – waiting and observing, collecting information, an if they were needed, state a price, shattering an enemies reputation.

James knew this game too.

So they were careful and quiet, often decided to pull back than risked being caught and punished.

They weren't young, therefor full of false bravery to think they were invincible.

Not anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I planned to move things a bit faster, but if I do that, then some of the future events imo would not make sense to you. So I took it slow and update two parts together - we're coming to something, I promise, just very indirect way. I hope you like it anyway : )


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James told Thomas he killed Alfred.

“I killed him” James' voice was rough after all the shouting.

Thomas looked away and around the room, outside the window. Anywhere but James.

He couldn't focus, too many thoughts to his mind at once came.

Everyone on the plantation knew they were arguing by now.

Nobody didn't came to stop them, even guards.

His father shouldn't be dead.

His father traveled here to take him back and James...

It would be raining soon.

Like the day Mr. Oglethorpe had told him his father was killed by pirate known as Flint.

James' looked so small in the corner, where shadows made their home. Like he wanted to be a part of them, ashamed, regretful.

Pained.

Peter betrayed him. Them. All of them, because he didn't have a choice.

James killed his father, because he had a choice and used it wrong.

But didn't Peter have other option after his father's death? He was the one who paid so Thomas would never be free again. Was it for his or Thomas' own good? Was he afraid of James and Mirand's rage?

They were out there, free and resourceful. Sure they could make many damage for a governor's reputation. Especially James as he was a dangerous pirate with powerful ship and skilled crew.

“Miranda was there? With you? Did she know?” Thomas asked after a second, minutes, maybe more. It felt too long.

James blinked.

“No. She wasn't there, but she knew. Only me.”

It was weak, but Thomas could read in his voice hint of anger.

Good. James should be angry at himself.

“But she told you... something. Please, don't deny it. I know... knew my wife. I know what she is... was capable of, James.”

The memories were still painful, but bearable when anger was there to make it company.

“She told me... a rumor.” James admitted with reluctance. “About a ship traveled from England with a Lord on board.”

The words were slow and spoken with care. Like James tried to hide something, but didn't know how without obvious lie.

“Miranda told you were you could find my father. Then you find a ship, a crew and then... do what? You killed him? Only him?”

Thomas was calm, too calm. It was worse kind of calm, the one before biggest storm of the season. And after hour of shouting about honesty, normal conversation sounded like deafening silent.

James didn't answer.

Thomas didn't expected him to do anything. He waited. Nothing happened, so he came closer and hugged James and couldn't let him go, until he heard weak sob.

“He hurt you.” James whispered. “He hurt us, but if I didn't...”

Plea for forgiveness, he thought he didn't deserved. Maybe not, but...

 _Us_. It wasn't his idea. Not all of it. Maybe not even most.

Oh, _Miranda_. His beautiful creature of so many strong feelings.

James never could tell her no. And he was wounded by Thomas betrayal.

He bore so much for so many years and all of that because of his and Miranda's love.

“You killed him” Thomas started, hugging him tight.

There wasn't any kind way to say it, he didn't want to find it, not now, when old pain stung so much.

James hidden his face in Thomas shoulder.

“You killed him, when he was coming for me. To get me from this place.”

It was cruel thing to say, especially when he didn't know if it was true, just assumptions based on liars' words and phantom letters, but his own rage was babbling in surface, ready to show its ugly claws and sink them in James' heart.

The stood there in silent for minutes, before Thomas returned to his room without a word.

~*~

James didn't talk to him for five days.

Five days during which the field never looking better.

Five days which became a proof of something Thomas never was aware of.

Something dark and ugly, something which was part of him.

Thomas was satisfied watching James tired, avoiding eyes contact or any kind of conversation, not seeking for any comfort from him.

After those five days Thomas came to his room and told him it wasn't his fault, not because he had forgave him. Or because he wanted to lesser the pain he caused.

He came because – for the first time in months since James showed up – he saw the man he loved. The same James he encouraged to know no shame.

The vulnerable one.

Thomas couldn't let go of him now. Trapp him by his side and never let go again.

They made love that night – first time for ten years without reluctance, shy touches and patient lips trying to make a point of not being in hurrying.

After that they didn't talk for two other days.

And then... they would have all the time they needed to make it working the right way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It isn't as spectacular if I imagined. I thought they would be shouting at each other and tell mean things. Or that it would be compatition of silent treatment. Or someting else. But not exactly like this. I have a feeling there is something wrong with this scene, like I miss something important. 
> 
> And as usual it's not beta'd, so if any one of you want to help me, I will apreciate it. My English isn't coopereating with me those days. Or maybe it is and I'm simply complaining for complaining, like writers often like to do. 
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy those two chapters and to the next time : )


	6. Chapter 6

The shift wasn't small, but – in all the things that happened between them – it was almost unremarkable. Thomas used to know not only James' habits but nervous tricks too.

Now the man he had once fell in love wasn't there anymore.

He has changed. They both had, but James' tried pretend. More closed in himself, more quiet and reserved toward the world than old James' ever had been.

Of course James has changed. They didn't see each other for ten years. Everyone would be different in such time.

But it was painful to realize the man he had knew so well has gone. Thomas missed the image his mind had prompted him in dreams and nightmares, made them so alike that he could tell the difference – not after so many blank places Thomas was forced to fill with his elusive memories.

James' eyes wasn't smiling anymore. Not the way the had been ages ago in different world and place. Around different people and expectations, career in front of him, successful live Thomas whipped from him, convincing James that love was everything human need to survive.

Thomas imagined it during months of desperate hope for rescue. For James coming for him and both of them leaving this forgotten place.

He dreamed about happiness. And here he was holding love of his life looking at him like Thomas was something fragile, something he would lose if James wasn't careful enough to see danger.

And so quiet.

At first Thomas thought it was because he was afraid of being caught. But then James was the same on the field, during the evenings setting himself in a corner and looking at one point on the floor, half-listing at best. And he introduced himself as James McGraw which sounded so strange in his lips like he wasn't used to gave people his name or... he had lived under false one for ten years.

James lips lost its passion, which Thomas so adored.

Kisses between them were gentle. Slow.

Lacking.

Now James' eyes were red from lack of sleep, deep tiredness. Embarrassment.

James parted his lips, letting Thomas do, whatever he wanted, not because of trust, as Thomas was hoped for, but guilt and bitterness. Salt from tears streaming from closed lids.

Then James took control with irritated growl.

Not used to being commanded.

Not anymore.

Thomas was fascinated by this stranger in front of him, who looked like James, had his body and voice, yet this was only shallow image of the man his once was.

This wasn't James McGraw.

~*~

“Do you think about it?” James asked, sitting on old chair in Thomas' room.

They were alone, lost in their own thoughts for two hours.

The door was wide open, every noise from corridor, every step guards stepped on wooden, cracking floor was heard. They frequently passed beside their rooms, waiting for any wrong move.

Thomas wondered once again if Mr. Oglethorpe was afraid of something connected to James. And, if he was a treat to his plans, why did he agree to leave James on his precious plantation? Was it because of the man who brought his love here?

James didn't look at him even once since the incident happened. Ground was more interesting for him right now, maybe it was better, Thomas wouldn't want to see disappointment in this beautiful, green eyes.

The man was shoot, because he tried to escape, because he wanted his freedom. He paid the price, they all saw it. No one helped or joined him in his forbidden quest through the field.

Poor, desperate, helpless soul.

Like all of them.

“Do you want your freedom back? Would you fight for it?” James clarified, still lost in his own head to notice their current reality.

Thomas didn't blame him, not even a few months ago James was a free man. It was hard to forget that feeling, but it would come in time. And Thomas promised himself he would be there for him as moral support, when the crushing realization will hit his beloved one.

At the beginning he asked himself the same question at every whispered conversation other workers held in fear of being heard. Thomas was looking for answer of “how” to get it back, not “why” he would want that to happened. It was so simple back there – going back to England, fight his father, make him see the wrongs, convince him to help Thomas achieve his goal.

But with each passing year the question became less frequent in his thought. Less obvious. Less important. There were other things Thomas should focus and learn – fighting for his own freedom, took from him without any warning or permission, wasn't on the list.

In the end he forget about it. By now Thomas didn't even remember when was the last time he thought about this abstract concept, letting days and weeks to past in lazy fashion. Now they looked the same – work from the morning to evening, short discussion about literature with workers who have enough energy to participate.

There wasn't many. Most of them were oldest inhabitants knowing each other, they opinions, they weak and strong character traits. They were like good working clock – all knew they place and responsibilities and made sure to fulfill them right, if not perfect.

Thomas lost the concept of free will, possibility of his own choices, mistakes only he could have done instead of a collective responsibility Mr. Oglethorpe taught them with lashes and pain.

“No” Thomas answered. “No, I wouldn't not know what to do with it. Not anymore.”

James only nodded like it confirmed something.

They didn't talk after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe talk was too much of a word. They didn't talk much an enire fic, so why cange that now?... 
> 
> Anyway we're close to end. Next chapter will be kind of resume and settlement for the main fic. 
> 
> I hope you will like it. 
> 
> To the next time.


	7. Chapter 7

James never told about his new name, but somehow Thomas knew.

A month after James' arrival other prisoners started whispered about its strange circumstances – although never loud enough to be heard by them.

Or only by James.

Thomas wasn't surprised when they had came and warned him, suspecting a spy. Mr Oglethorpe was way too kind for James – softer, less demanding, more supportive.

On the surface.

It was well thought tactic.

James' experience in battle made him good strategist, navy training and charismatic – much stronger than ten years ago – personality made him good leader. But his thirst for freedom though, his desire for making his own decisions and a gift to enlist people, became a serious treat for people ruled this place.

So Mr. Oglethorpe made him the bad guy, because he wasn't one of them, one of the fallen elite of England. Unfamiliar element in well worked machine.

Thomas was fascinated, how they role had been reversed.

Now he was the one who cared deeply about others opinion. And James... James didn't care, knowing it was a lost case.

Before Thomas would be the one planing escape, searching best way to convince people to act on their own behalf. James would be there to stop his fevered idealism.

Now Thomas watched as other prisoners gossiped about James connection with Mr. Oglethorpe. They were angry that he was there to make them realize how bad was their current situation. They thought that someone had betrayed and confessed about their conspiracy. And Thomas didn't have strength to point out this whole nonsense. Or maybe he himself thought that story about spy hid some truth?

But James wasn’t interested in their plans. He just watched them from distance and done nothing.

“You're not ready to fight. Without a weapon and experience, you're no opponent to them. You'll just die.” James explained to Thomas one evening.

“They think, they are. So do I, even if I'm not a part of this.” Thomas admitted, knowing that lying to James was meaningless.

“You know how to fight?” James wondered. “Know how to shoot? Or kill? Did you kill a person, Thomas?”

“No. No, I didn't.” Thomas grunted, so sure he couldn't voice what was on his mind right now.

The direction their conversation was heading...

“I did and you know that. And it isn't as easy as it looks like. You need strength. Not only physical.” James listed, walking around the room.

“They don't want to kill. They only want to be free, James. There isn't any need for...”

“You really believe that.” announced James, like it was something new to him. “You really believe they'll give up the plantation.”

“As a matter of fact, yes, I believe we... they have a good chance. It happened before.”

“With what result?”

Thomas didn't answer. Didn't admit. Didn't face the truth James was telling him.

Both of them knew they wouldn't end up together, not now after so many differences along the path they followed until this point.

“They'll try anyway. You could help them.”

“Even if they don't trust me?”

“They trust me.”

James looked at him, then smiled.

“We need to be careful.”

Thomas didn't have a strength to admit, to himself the most, he hoped James would refuse.

~*~

It was normal after new arrival. Even if a little late – it allowed them all to turn off from daily routine which bored under their skin after years of repeating.

There were rumors about Captain Flint's treasure buried on Treasure Island. It wasn't much, but sometimes a bit of interesting information leaked. Like a gossip about Long John Silver who killed Captain Flint and becoming the only man he knew location of the buried chest. People talked about a man even crown was afraid of – cruel pirate captain with one leg and piercing look.

And didn't this description sounds familiar?

In the end Thomas knew all along about James new name and identity of mysterious man who brought him here. And accepted it with the fact that after they big escape – there was blood, and death, and chaos, James was right this whole time and Thomas ignored it again, thinking now he was better prepared – James refused to leave Savannah, where one from his past would find him.

Like he wanted to stay and wait.

But Thomas wasn't. Not with the ghost between them, reaching for James' attention every time they let themselves just be less careful, more lazy, more free form the shared past.

There wasn't any future for them. Not as couple, not as two people who one loved one another.

When they parted, they promised themselves, they met one day and tell proper stories.

One day which never had came.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the fic. It's probably not what you expected in the end. I'm not very good with endings. Sorry for that, I tried but it's a chonce I didn't do good enough job. 
> 
> But I completed chatered fic. First time for a very long time. I'm so happy right now! : ) 
> 
> Next part of the series will be Madi's character study. I don't know when, so - if you are interested - it would be safer to just subscribe entire series or something. 
> 
> Tell me, what you think. On [my tumblr](https://bluemousieng.tumblr.com) too, if you like. 
> 
> To the next time : )


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